


Legacies to Build and Uphold

by ValentinesValentine (UnfinishedProject)



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Aftercare, Desk Sex, Dom/sub, F/M, Family Bonding, Fingers in Mouth, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hair-pulling, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, Loose Continuity, Marking, Marriage Proposal, Multiple Orgasms, Nightmares, One-Sided Attraction, Oral Sex, Parenthood, Past Relationship(s), Porn With Plot, Possible Character Death, Post-Blind Betrayal, Post-Coital Cuddling, Pre-Blind Betrayal, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles, Speech Restrictions, Unplanned Pregnancy, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:47:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23028793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnfinishedProject/pseuds/ValentinesValentine
Summary: Her father was a soldier. Her husband was, too. And now it seemed it was her turn to be one. She was surrounded by familiar faces, familiar feelings — but for the most part she was still alone.Just a few chapters of loosely connecting story of Arthur and Nora finding companionship in each other.Expect a change of rating and more tags with upcoming chapters. Chapter length vary wildly.New Chapter is the second one titled "Knight" and what was previously titled so is now chapter three, "Knight-Captain".
Relationships: Arthur Maxson & Female Sole Survivor, Arthur Maxson/Female Sole Survivor, Paladin Danse & Female Sole Survivor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	1. Initiate

It was her very first night on the Prydwen, somewhen around midnight when she climbed the ladder down to the main deck. For anyone else, it would probably seem like she wanted to jump ship, sneak away in the cover of the dark — but she just wanted to be alone. She was having nightmares of that day almost every night since leaving the vault — but the militant environment just reminded her more of Nate, more of what she lost. 

"Initiate." She froze, jumping down the last few rungs — she didn't expect to find anyone on the observation deck; especially not Elder Maxson. She shouldn't have been so surprised; he was devoted to the Brotherhood with every fiber of his being — it was more than likely their struggles would keep him up some, if not most, nights. And now she couldn't turn back unnoticed — the only way was forward with unknown consequences hanging over her head. 

"Elder." She wondered if Maxson ever wore something else than the jumpsuit and the coat — she in comparison wearing what could pass as pajamas in these days. She felt naked as his eyes swept over her; naked and old — like those women in their late forties and fifties who strung along young boys with empty promises. There was barely any difference between them, a year or two; three perhaps — yet she would swear on it he had more experience in life, he was the more mature out of the two of them. "I didn't mean to bother you." 

"Then why else would you be here past your curfew?" Danse hasn't mentioned a curfew — or maybe she just blanked on some of the information, trying to wrangle her emotions during the tour. Stepping closer, she could see the shadow of a smile in the pale moonlight — did he find her fear amusing? Whatever it was for, it was comforting to know he could relax — though she wasn't sure why she was concerned about the opposite. 

"I couldn't sleep." It was the truth — she didn't mean to bother him because she didn't expect to find him there. Everything on the Prydwen reminded her of that time she visited Nate on-base. The strict uniformity with the odd few misfits who each thought they were the king of the base, the monotony of the grays, blacks and khakis — boring, depressing even. Every time she closed her eyes to take a moment and pull herself together, she saw Kellogg, she heard the shots — and Shaun, who's grown up without her since, crying as he was taken away. 

She rested a hand against the window, cold and comforting — standing beside Maxson in silence. Looking out at the ruins, she knew that, even if she found a way into the Institute and rescued Shaun, the world wouldn't be as before — this wasn't the future she imagined for him, it wasn't a world children should grow up in. 

"It's sad. Seeing everything in ruins because some couldn't share." She wasn't sure what made her speak — maybe that Maxson wasn't calling her weak or poking fun of her. Even before the bombs dropped, she was astounded by the war — why couldn't the nations work together to solve the crisis? Money, power, glory — those were the most common motivators, no matter the scale you played on. She had her fair share of encounters with that type during her short career as a lawyer — her distaste for them the reason she accepted so many _pro bono_ cases. 

"What was it like? Before the bombs." There was earnest curiosity in his voice and something wistful — she couldn't blame anyone who wouldn't want to live in this world. It was empty now, a shell of its former self — carrying too many reminders of her past, too many painful memories. But if Maxson wanted to hear about the world how she knew it, she was willing to share. 

"Bright. Happy. Full of life and hope." A war was going on but people weren't ambushed on every street corner by super mutants or raiders. The general population was content with their lives though there were news of riots and famine once or twice in every few months — or maybe she was just a spoiled, little girl in the heart of Boston; sheltered and blind to the reality. "People weren't afraid to trust each other." 

"It sounds...idealistic." Maybe it was, he only heard a single opinion — and even that tinted with nostalgia. There were parts though she didn't miss; the hate towards the Chinese-Americans or the military galas she attended with Nate or her father. There was one particular event that came back to her now; it was shortly after her wedding — when she was still young and impressionable. 

"I think I met one of your relatives." She was left alone at the banquet, her father schmoozing with those of similar rank to him and Nate — she wasn't sure where he disappeared to. She probably drank more than she should've by that point but there were so many war stories she could listen to. He asked her to dance and one song became two, then three — by the time they stopped, they were breathless outside on a secluded balcony. She loved Nate, she really did. But her arms still wrapped around his neck, her lips still parted on their own accord — the only reason it didn't became more was a speech he still had to give. "Roger Maxson. He's your ancestor, I assume." 

"Yes. He was the founder of the Brotherhood of Steel." A year had passed since the fundraiser she attended in California, the one they met at, when she heard through the grapevine that a unit was considering resignation from the US army and government. She didn't think much of it then, it didn't seem likely either that the leadership would allow it — that had to be seen as treason or desertion. But, as history centuries later showed, they were successful and left a stronger legacy behind than anything else. 

"My father probably knew him better but..." She trailed off, uncertain if she could make such an assumption. She could see the similarities in Arthur, both in his looks and behavior — though she assumed the latter was deliberate. But they were different people, in different times and with different goals. She only continued her sentence when Maxson turned to her, an eyebrow raised in question — telling her to go on. "But I think he'd be proud of what you do." 

* * *

It was still dark, an hour could pass at most when she woke up again — needing a moment to realize where she was. She didn't remember how long she talked with Maxson or when she's fallen asleep — but she could tell it wasn't a dream. His coat was wrapped around her and she was lying on one of the benches around the observation deck. She didn't want to think about the embarrassment that would come with being found by someone.

There was no light coming from Maxson's room but she didn't want to leave his coat around — taking it with herself would be just as damning even if nothing happened between them. Or, at least she hoped, nothing happened — some bits of the night were lost to the grogginess. She walked as quietly she could, pulling the coat tighter around herself; the Prydwen got surprisingly cold during the night. The smell of leather and something bitter but pleasant, like almonds, filled the air around her — his scent. 

Moonlight was her only guide inside his room, illuminating a few of his personal belongings — magazines and mission reports, a terminal, a couple bottles of beer and a few cigars. She crossed the room, laying his coat on top of the chair his clothes were thrown onto — it was surprising, she took him for a clean freak. Though maybe he was just exhausted, she kept him up too late and he was happy to get into bed — she tried not to wonder his level of undress under the blanket. She lingered a few seconds, he looked peaceful when he was asleep — young enough to look his true age; though she probably shouldn't be the one to speak. 

Fingers curled around her wrist as she turned away — firm enough that she couldn't escape without racket. It didn't seem that Maxson was awake or aware of what he was doing — he probably just sensed an attacker in her, it was instinct. She tried to pull away again but he tugged her closer, dragging her onto the bed. She figured it wouldn't take long for Maxson to fall into a deeper sleep again and let her go, she could lie by his side until then — it wasn't like anything inappropriate was happening; she was held captive. 

He mumbled something in his sleep — _knight_ or _night_ , she couldn't decide; followed by something vaguely similar to her name. So he was aware of her presence yet he kept her there — was he planning to humiliate her for trespassing in the morning or were there personal reasons? She soon lost the thought though, his soft breathes and the warmth of his bare chest against her palm lulling her to sleep — she only hoped he would be aware of his actions as morning came.


	2. Knight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More soft Arthur because I can.

It was dark when she shot up in bed, surrounded by the soft lull of the Prydwen and some other knights' snoring. A sharp contrast to the frantic beat of her heart, too loud in her ears. She shivered even with the wool blanket pulled tightly around herself but it had nothing to do with the cold — for a change it was a slight comfort. She forced herself to breath, exhales stuttering. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim of the bay, night lights dotting along railings every ten yards or so. 

At least she didn't scream this night because no one else was awake around her. Her nightmares were consistent most nights, reliving the moment of the bombs falling or the kidnapping. With a few breathes she could go back to sleep, bury her face in the pillow and wait for exhaustion to take over her whirring mind. She cried sometimes, too but only Haylen noticed it the next morning — after the first time just offering a hug without questions. 

But it was different now. She still heard Kellogg's taunts, the gunshots or Shaun's crying but there were new voices added to the mix. The kid's voice she saw though Kellogg's memories and believed to be her son pleading to someone — what for, she didn't know but she wanted to comfort him from his fears. It probably wasn't even real, she was the one who's been scared witless from dreams and she worried about someone who might not even be alive anymore. _No, you shouldn't think like that._ And there was another voice, Maxson's — shouting something but she couldn't make out the words, she couldn't decide if it was in anger or fear or something else. 

Her head was throbbing with the memories of cries and wailing, and even if she'd want to go back to sleep, it seemed impossible — she'd just slip back into another dream that would leave her restless or torture her with painful images. She could maybe risk another nightly excursion — the last time she had the misfortune to run into Maxson. Though maybe that was what she needed, reassurance that he was safe at least — a stupid thought, why wouldn't the Elder be safe on his own airship. If they were under attack, she'd know. 

Yet, she rose, slipping on the old pair of sneakers she found in a partly collapsed store — her ensemble of a baseball shirt and loose pants not improved since that night. She hoped Maxson wouldn't mind her company this time either — she wasn't sure if it was his warmth or the talking earlier that night helping her sleep better. She wasn't a fool, she didn't expect him to coddle her and allow her into his bed like a parent does with their frightened kid — but it was one of the few pleasant, albeit embarrassing, memories she made in the recent weeks. Her mind lingered on that late night meeting in her idle minutes — frowning at the thought of how awkward it must've been that she's fallen asleep on his shoulder. But, imagining him gently lowering her onto the bench and cover her with his coat curled a smile onto her face soon after; it was an unexpected kindness from where she least expected — he could've just woken her and sent her back to her bed. 

She crept through the Prydwen with little noise, structural creaks and the rumble of the engine suppressing whatever she'd made. The Pip-Boy was left on her bed, the lights on were enough to find her way around — she's spent enough time onboard to know which stairs and turns to take. There was some light seeping out under the door this time and the rhythmic clicks of a keyboard — he's been working too late into the night again. She wondered only for a split second why she was concerned. Her knuckles rapped against the door before she'd change her mind, opening it only a crack at his _'come in'_. 

"Knight. Unable to sleep again?" Maxson looked up at her, slightly raising a brow — his voice was calm as always, not showing his emotions. Maybe she just imagined it then but, for a moment, it sounded like he was teasing her — like the insomnia and nightmares were only an excuse to get close to him. 

"Yeah. Am I bothering?" She's been leaning against the doorframe since, her fingers curled around the handle with a tight grip. It was obvious Maxson was working and she didn't want to be a nuisance — but she didn't know what else to do, Danse and Haylen remained in Cambridge for the night. She watched as his eyes flitted back to the screen, the greenish hue painting him more tired and older than he already looked. Maybe he needed a break sometimes too, he was barely more than a child — she didn't feel like much of an adult either. 

"Come in, Knight." The door closed behind her with a soft click, joined by a soft, grateful sigh. She offered a small _'thank you'_ before taking a seat on the edge of his bed. It looked different now, the blanket and pillows organized neatly as if it was on display in a pre-war shop window — too large and too cold compared to the last night she saw it. Maxson turned back to the terminal and for a while the only sounds were the thumping of his fingers against the keyboard and his soft but annoyed grunts — she didn't dare to speak, she didn't want to interrupt him even more than she did. "Knight-" 

"Nora. There's hardly anyone using my name." She knew it was probably an inappropriate request but wherever she went, there was always some other way to refer to her. If, on the off chance, she worked together with the handful of Minutemen she secured before joining up with the Brotherhood, she was just General — doll, if she ran into Sturges on even rarer occasions. And, for the Brotherhood, she was Knight — before that, Initiate. Then there were the slurs and unasked for nicknames — vaultie, sunshine, Blue and all those that where already prevalent in the past. 

"Nora," Maxson started again and she couldn't help the flutter of breath when he called her name. It was such a simple gesture but she felt like a human again, more than just one in the line of a couple hundred, more than someone replaceable. She didn't want to think that the use of her name meant anything more than it was — he was just a practical leader and could figure out what his people needed to hear, it was still duty to him. "It's not just the unfamiliar environment, right?" 

She didn't realize she was so transparent, an open book for him to flip through the old yet somehow conserved pages to his heart's content — but he grew up in the wasteland and he was a respected commander, it was foolish not to think he wouldn't be able to read people. There was no reply from her, only the sound of steps crossing over to the bed and the creak of the springs as he sat beside her. She felt his hand hesitantly hover over her back but it flopped onto the mattress behind her. 

"I have nightmares." She didn't want to detail them, already assuming he found her weak — but she didn't want Maxson to know that he was featured in them. She didn't want him to think that she was clingy or too sensitive — she didn't want to be seen unfit. Or, for some reason, for Maxson to think that she was after him — neither because she saw Roger in him, nor because she'd want favours out of it. 

"You should see Knight-Captain Cade. Maybe he can offer something to help." There was a shook of her head and a huff from him — she appreciated the suggestion but she didn't want to use more chems than the bare minimum. She's seen addicts before the war once or twice and they were miserable when out of chems — she didn't want to think how it would be now without a steady supply. Her breath hitched for a moment, a warm touch against her back pulling her out of old memories — her soft shudder of a reaction only sinking into her consciousness after a second. 

"I'll manage but thank you, Arthur. I mean, Elder." It was hard to keep her thoughts straight with the pressure of his hand grazing along her spine with soothing caresses. She wasn't touched like that — since forever, probably. The low purr she couldn't keep from slipping only added to her embarrassment. 

"Arthur's fine. It's been a while someone said that." He's been Elder for four or five years according to what she heard — probably not even those who saw him grow up dared to address him by name. There were probably still people who remembered him as a squire or a little kid — and a giggle made it past her lips when she tried to imagine him as a kid. It was hard, with the scarred face, intimidating yet charming, so vivid in her mind or the blues that filled with concern — he's been an adorable one though, she'd bet on it. "What's so amusing, Nora?" 

"You. My inability to imagine you as a kid, more like." Her eyes met with those blues that could pierce through her, their glint able to cut her thoughts short and trap her breath — especially when he's been looking at her with hints of mischief in those eyes. There were the beginnings of a smirk on his lips, gentle and not as malicious than ones she already saw — as if he was finding his amusement in hers. 

"And what kind of kid do you imagine me as?" Well, that was the problem — she couldn't. But it didn't seem like he'd be satisfied with that and she tried again — closing her eyes for a brief moment. Yet, her thoughts turned another way as his fingers still roamed their invisible path along her back — she was sure her cheeks darkened just a bit under the heat of her thoughts. 

"Charismatic. Brave. Handsome." Alright, maybe she's been describing him now but it was hard to put her fleeting thoughts into coherent sentences when his eyes bore into hers, searching for answers to more questions than he asked. It was hard to concentrate on imagining someone when his touch was so real against her skin, making her feel alive in a way she never expected to ever again. Unable to bear his gaze any longer, she glanced away — eyes stopping on the neon face of a clock, 2AM sharp. "I should leave." 

"You can stay, Nora." His hand hasn't dropped from her shoulder, his thumb brushing against her cheek. "Please," he added when she squirmed, fighting herself over the possible implications. She glanced back at him, _a mistake, really_ , as his gaze didn't let hers go — keeping her frozen in place while she tried to put a name to both of their feelings. There was no hunger, no burning lust in those blues like she's seen in many who only looked at her as a piece of meat. She wouldn't even call it anything strong like love, probably not even a crush — they barely knew each other for a fortnight. He probably just needed someone he could be _Arthur_ with, someone he could share his softer side with. And that was exactly what she needed, too — someone to hold and comfort her. 

"Thank you, Nora." It was more of a whisper, coming from so close yet too far away. Her fingers reached out, tentatively dancing against his jawline, carding through his beard with tiny touches. She watched as his eyes fluttered closed for a brief second, his palm pressing against her lower back with a little more pressure — like he's been trying to hold onto the moment before it fell apart. 

Her body leant forward as the pressure increased further, lying down with his arm holding her against his chest. She was tucked under the blanket, shoes kicked off in haste as she snuggled against his side — the same sense of comfort overwhelming her than the last time. His even breathes and the continued caresses along her spine were already rocking her into sound sleep when she looked up at him, a small smile gracing her lips. 

"No, thank you." She leant up, sleepy and vision blurring with her tiredness but she could still make out his features — the blue eyes looking at her curiously, the scar running across his cheek and the lips she's been so close to kissing once already. Her kiss was quick, soft — hardly a peck. "Goodnight, Arthur." 

"Goodnight, Nora."


	3. Knight-Captain

With Liberty Prime partially operational, it seemed like basic procedure that she needed to report to the Elder — it wasn't much of a surprise when Ingram told her to head up to the Prydwen. She's been away for the most part of a fortnight before her return the previous evening. For a change, she slept onboard instead of the cot she used at the airport — but she didn't exactly had time to _speak_ with Maxson. 

"Elder. You wanted to speak?" Since she parted way with Ingram, she's been wondering what was going on — with each passing second it felt like she was ordered in for an investigation rather than to report. Something was amiss but nobody seemed to know what — tension just hung in the air. She's been nervous to approach Maxson, afraid that it was something to do with her — with them. 

"Knight. Something to confess?" She's been used to the duality in their relationship but he was colder to her than usual — accusatory, suspicious. She hasn't done anything that would be against Brotherhood rules — anything he didn't already know of. She's seen him jealous, too, and that wasn't like this; he seemed more angry back when rather than betrayed. 

"I- no. I don't keep secrets from you." Maxson knew her more than anyone in the Commonwealth probably. She reported to him upon arrival, she's opened up to him about the past on more than one occasion — he knew her deepest, darkest fears and desires. She was an open book to him and the sudden lack of trust hurt. "What's going on, Ar- Elder Maxson?" 

"Proctor Quinlan completed the decryption of the data you retrieved from the Institute." She's been curious about it but in light of the findings Maxson shared with her, she wished they rather never cracked the code. It wasn't fair, the same happening to her again — she's been through this once with Shaun and that was plenty enough. But Danse has been a mentor to her, a friend even — and she'd dare say he was Maxson's, too. 

"That's...I can't believe it." If it wasn't for Maxson's fingers lacing with hers, she would be freaking out already — there had to be some mistake. But it was too much to be a coincidence and Danse disappearing didn't exactly help his situation further. She bit her lip, hesitant to ask the question — somewhere in the back of her mind she already knew the answer and she didn't like it. "What do you want me to do?" 

"He's a traitor. A danger to our mission and the Commonwealth." He skirted around a direct order, even avoiding her eyes as he spoke — it must've affected him worse than he let it show. But he was the Elder and he powered through the hurt and anger — dropping her hand and straightening as he gave the command, turning soldier into executioner. "And there's a promotion for you riding on the results." 

"Don't do that, Arthur." Some people were already giving her a side eye, being summoned to the Elder more than she needed to — whether they assumed lecturing for abysmal performance or certain kinds of favors, she didn't have time to care. But she didn't want to be the _paladin-killer_ that endangers anyone on a higher rank. "I don't want to be the social climber. The military equivalent, that is." 

"You already are, _Knight_." That wasn't nice but he hardly played fair — but the protest that _she'd never, not because of that_ was cut off as his fingers dug into her thigh. She tried her best to stifle a gasp, instead managing a pathetic whimper — the corners of his lips twisting with the beginning of a smirk. His grip wasn't harsh but he had to know how sensitive she was — he left her sore the night before. He dragged his fingers higher; his eyes and face as hard and unreadable as ever — was everything just a game to him? 

"I thought you knew it better, _Elder_." Maybe, the first few nights didn't mean much to her either — but she was already a Knight by then and she wasn't expecting quick promotions out of it. She had her fair share of encounters with high ranking military officers, even her father was one — and to be like them was the last of her priority. She joined the Brotherhood because, for the most part, she agreed with their goals and trusted their strength — though their methods often were more than questionable. "I want to earn that on my own. Not with murder. Not as Nora." 

"Apparently, I've misjudged you." _Well, apparently, he did_. But she kept her mouth shut and only glared at him in return — this conversation was far from over. But she had a duty, a mission to carry out — and Maxson wanted her to make that her priority whatever her feelings on the matter were. "But my orders stand. You're dismissed."


	4. Paladin

She should've expected it, she really should've. Her eyes bore into Maxson's from where she stood by Danse's side — she just convinced him that his life was still worth saving, that he was more than a machine. She couldn't say the suspicion and the lack of trust hurt now — after all, she did disobey his orders. 

"Arthur, don't." She stepped between the two of them, into the line of fire — even against Danse's protest that it was all right, he made peace with dying. She didn't know, only hoped Maxson wouldn't pull the trigger, not until he could get a clean shot. Her hands were up in surrender, eyes unwavering from his stormy blues — disgust and disappointment evident in his gaze. "You're making a mistake." 

"Stand aside, Nora." She took one step after the other, slowly but steadily closing the distance between them. She wrapped her arms around his neck, propriety and rules be damned — she knew that wrestling the gun from him would be impossible. He tried to shove her out of the way but she clung to him with all her might. "I'm not going to ask you again." 

"Please, listen to me, Arthur." Her voice was faltering, frustration and anger rising in her — she wouldn't cry or beg him, he'd never listen to her like that. His gaze softened for a split second, gone so quick that she wasn't sure she didn't just imagine it. She stepped back, her fingers twining with his — there was a somber smile on her lips. He only gave her a subtle nod, his hold increasing pressure on her hand — a warning that she was dancing on the edge but he was willing to listen. 

She might've used more than simple words to convince him otherwise — it felt like a betrayal to her oath, a disgrace to her profession. _But desperate times..._ There was a soft sigh, a deep exhale as Maxson seethed out the words in response — she knew without question that she owed him; a lot. She risked a quick kiss against his cheek, pressing into his side as she breathed out her soft _thank you_ — his arm slipping around her waist. 

"Thank you, Arthur. And Nora." Maxson spat at him that he better not misunderstand or abuse his mercy before heading back — leaving her five minutes to say her goodbyes or he flies back without her. She promised to be done quick — if for nothing else, to keep the heartbreak minimal. "So that's how things are; you and Maxson?" 

"Yes. But it's not what you think." He probably assumed the same as many would if they knew about them — that she was only in it for favors and promotions. But there was something bitter in his laugh at her defense — he's been disappointed in himself? He was avoiding her gaze, wringing his hands — it wasn't ever easy for him to open up but she's never saw him this distraught. 

"I hope you'll be happy with him. I...nevermind." His eyes found hers for a brief moment but that single glance told her more than words could. She was surprised, she never noticed Danse felt more for her — they were CO and subordinate, friends at best. _He probably knew of them_ — and if anybody, it was him who would rather suppress his own feelings for others' happiness. 

"I'm not going to say that things would be different if I knew," that would've been a lie — it was going on too long between her and Maxson to be otherwise. "But I hope you'll find your happiness. Goodbye, Danse and thank you for everything." 

* * *

She's been sitting in her seat, staring out of the cockpit of the vertibird in silence — Maxson hasn't spoken a word either. It wasn't the amicable silence she was used to between them — they both had their questions but didn't know how to start. _Just say something to him_ — the worst that could happen was being asked to shut up. She laid a hand on his arm, giving it a soft squeeze; he didn't shrug it off, that was a good start.

"Why? Why did you stop me?" He didn't take his eyes off the horizon but she had his attention. She already told him plenty reasons, whispered to him down at the bunker — he wasn't mistaken though, there was more. She turned to him, offering him a soft smile even if she wasn't sure he'd see. 

"I know you, Arthur. You would regret it." She knew him enough by now to know that every loss affected him deeply — and Danse was his friend, whatever he might claim. And she knew that there was a heart under the gruff exterior and he agonized over the smallest thing — he'd be a walking nightmare once he moved on from his disgust. Or, at least, she hoped that was true and she wasn't mislead about his true nature. "It's not his fault he's a synth." 

Just like how S9, Shaun, wasn't to blame for what her son did to her — maybe she just felt the same pity for Danse. They might've been created in a lab, they had the chance to turn hostile — but they were just like them, feeling, living, thinking. She understood Maxson's view, threats couldn't be left unaccounted for when they were trying to rebuild — it would be detrimental to their goal to protect the people. But what would stop them next time from pulling the trigger on someone if they only had a strong suspicion but no evidence — how would they be better than the Institute? 

He kept staring forward as he piloted the copter, not saying anything more to her. She sunk back into her seat, letting her thoughts spiral without much direction or coherence. They were getting close, the Prydwen's outlines sharper against the sky with each second. Clouds were gathering in the far south — just how metaphorical ones did in their relationship, wondering how will they be able to weather the storm. 

"Can you ever forgive me?" She wasn't sure if her actions could ever earn forgiveness — she disrespected not only his orders but feelings, too. He had every right to be angry at her, to wish to avoid her or to deal out an appropriate punishment — but the silence was the worst. Maxson was one of the few she could be open with, the one she could confine her fears and hopes in — the only other she could call a friend now was Haylen with the loss of Danse. 

"I think you know the answer to that, Paladin."


	5. Sentinel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you squint, it's maybe mildly dubious consent but it wasn't written with such intentions.

"Elder Maxson?" She rested a hand on Shaun's shoulder, offering him a soft smile before turning her gaze back to Maxson. He gave the two of them a quick glance — bit of a disappointment or annoyance in his eyes. Since the Danse incident, she's proven her loyalty many times but he was still wary towards the child — at least she had Ingram and Li backing her up now. No wonder Shaun enjoyed their company the most onboard the Prydwen. 

"What is it, Sentinel?" Or maybe he was just disapproving because most of her free time was taken up by Shaun and she hardly found the occasion or energy for late night rendezvous. Shaun tugged on her arm, muttering something about his request being suddenly unimportant and that he'd rather just see if Ingram needed help. "Well?" 

"Shaun wants to know if you want to join us after dinner." Unlike the rest of the kids, he was allowed to share her quarters — they tried to have some fun little activites in the evening to get to know each other better. Mostly it was board games she salvaged on recon missions, or she read aloud something even though he was old and smart enough to read by himself — it was more for her, catching up on all she missed. "He's convinced you don't know how to have fun. Or even just smile." 

"Hey, mom! I told you not to say that." She felt him fidgeting against her side but her eyes were trained on Maxson — she knew that the opposite of Shaun's beliefs were true; though very few people were privy to that side of his. Even now, she could see him find amusement in the situation contrary to his initial frustration. "She's...I have no idea what she's talking about...Elder." 

"I'm honored to accept the invitation, Squire." There was a bright smile on Shaun's face and for a moment it seemed he was ready to wrap Maxson in a hug — though incredulous if his _'Really?'_ was any indication. He disentangled from her hold, waving at her and running off with a happy exclaim about visiting Li — because obviously the previous day was too long ago. She watched after him as he climbed the ladder then turned back to Maxson — reaching out for his hand. 

"That was surprisingly cute of you." She often had the feeling that the only reason Shaun could come with him was so that he was under constant surveillance. But it seemed Maxson was unwittingly warming up to him despite of what he was — considering the three of them a family would've been a stretch but maybe in a few months' or a year's time things would be different. 

"I'm not heartless, Sentinel, whatever the rumors might say." She chuckled softly, allowing herself a brief moment of impropriety — pressing the quickest of kisses to his lips. There was a soft grunt in response but, as if to prove his previous statement, his features smoothed into something tender — longing even. She gave his hand a soft squeeze before pulling away — a mischievous smile on her lips. 

"See you tonight, I guess." 

* * *

"He's asleep." Thankfully it didn't take long to convince Shaun it was time for bed — couldn't have passed more than thirty minutes since she said goodbye to Maxson. She sunk into his lap now, with hands against his chest — whatever he's been working on on the terminal would have to wait. Her lips caught his in a soft kiss, purring as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her more into his body. "I hope you had fun, too."

She knew it couldn't have been to easy for Maxson to spend an hour or more in the vicinity of a synth — but he seemed to find a way to deal with his discomforts. Anticipation rose in her again as his fingers now retraced their path along her thighs, digging into her flesh just enough for her breath to catch, for her hands to grip his shirt. She only noticed now that he ditched his usual uniform for a pair of jeans and some old flannels — positively looking like a sexy lumberjack from one of her old posters. 

"I can see room for improvement in quality." She shuddered under his gaze, telling her that she'd be absolutely ravaged by the end of the night. It wasn't new though — they were still young, they still had the drive for more than quick fucks. With another squeeze to her thighs, his hands now inched up on her body — his thumbs brushing against her exposed skin between the zipper of her jumpsuit. She's taken to wearing the black of the officers' under her power armor but now she had the zipper down by her navel — her cleavage showing a generous amount of her tits. "I love when you wear this." 

"I'm sure it's not because you have plenty experience removin-" Fingers pressed down on her tongue before she could finish and she could only growl at him in frustration. She tried to push him back but all she achieved was coating his fingers with more saliva, hooked firmly behind her teeth. When his other hand fought its way under her jumpsuit and groped at her tits, she sucked on his fingers — watching his eyes cloud over with lust. She had to admit, though, that there was something hot in the way Maxson held control over her — feeding a fire that was dormant since her college days; since she met Nate and became a boring housewife. 

"No talking unless you're asked. Understood?" She took a deep breath as he pulled back, wiping his fingers on his shirt before slipping that hand under her jumpsuit, too. Her first attempt at a reply left her lips as an unintelligible mess, groaning as just the right amount of pain and pleasure shot through her body — the pinch of her nipples harsher than she expected. 

"Y-yes, Arthur." A gasp still forced her to stutter as his lips pressed against her throat, kissing and nipping at the sides of her neck — leaving his marks on her skin. She loved it as much she hated it — makeup was scarce now to cover up. But the notion that he would risk exposing the nature of their relationship was exciting — though he had far greater deniability than the might of her words should it ever come to that. Her thoughts of consequences were cut short however, calloused palms brushing against her shoulders drawing a soft moan from her — his lips descending as he peeled the uniform away. 

Her own hands flattened against his chest, naked under her touch now — his shirt hanging open, untucked from his jeans. She could feel the scars that littered his skin rather than see, her eyes closed shut as Maxson's lips hovered over her tits. Her fingers traced the largest, the one he supposedly got when fighting a deathclaw — her own encounter with one in the Glowing Sea leaving her skeptical but she knew better than to question him. And, in the end, it didn't really matter — it was still a testament to a fight he won. His warm breath was replaced by the heat of his mouth against her skin, her exhale fractured by tiny gasps and quivers as his tongue flicked against a nipple. He never spent much time kissing and licking her tits — maybe in the back of his mind he couldn't shake the thought that she was a mother and that certain associations might bring discomfort. 

His lips returned to hers as he pulled the zipper all the way down, resting a palm against her stomach — it took her lots of time and effort to gain her pre-pregnancy shape back. She melted into the kisses, tongue idly caressing his as he invaded her mouth — moaning as his hand brushed across her skin, slipping under the tight uniform. There was something sweet to it, a hand resting on her ass and another curled around a fistful of hair — moments like these she could believe it meant just as much to Maxson as to her. 

His hand circled back around, pressing against her front — her body tensing the tiniest, head tilting the slightest so that his hold in her hair came with discomfort. Not bad, but enough to pull a whimper from her, to plaster a smirk on his lips. There was a compliment, teasing as it may be, on the tip of his tongue, something she'd find hard not to make a remark about — yet his fingers worked against her through the thin fabric that still separated them, silent save for a groan. He watched her wriggling against his palm, wanting more of him against her body — all the while his fingers curled against her chin, keeping her gaze on his. 

"Strip and kneel." His hands pulled back, leaving her with a wistful sigh — but not before drawing her in for a greedy kiss. Slipping off his lap, she took her time pulling the uniform away from her body, revealing every bit of skin with calculated moves that reflected the same mischievous cruelty that was so often his signature. By the time she finished and sank to her knees between his legs, Maxson shrugged off his shirt and pushed off any remaining clothes enough to expose his cock — hard and glistening with early cum. 

She ran her palms along his thighs, watching as his muscles flexed with a hitching breath. His eyes closed with a loose moan as she wrapped fingers around the base, the veins pulsing with his impatience yet he seemed almost relaxed — she allowed herself a moment of admiration before dragging her thumb along his length. There was a little shudder when she pressed a kiss to his tip, hand still working his cock. She enjoyed taking her time, the semblance of power she had over him — though both of them knew it never took long for her to replace her fingers with lips. 

"Fucking hell, Nora." He wasn't one to swear, not when he got a devastating report, not even when he was betrayed — yet when it was just the two of them, when she applied more pressure on his cock, his vocabulary often reduced to profanities and her name. She always took it as a compliment, dragging her tongue along his heated skin, twisting it around the head of his cock. Leaning forward, she took more of him between her lips, moaning around him at the pleasant scratch against her scalp — a loose grip holding her down. The room was filled with the sloppy sounds of her licks and sucking, head bobbing to mutters of swearing and encouragement. She preferred this over the furious thrusts that often had her choke around his cock, losing himself to suppressed needs — getting back from a lengthy assignment always came with its fair share of...roughness. 

"C'mere." It wasn't like she had much of a choice but obey, fingers in her hair tugging her back into his lap — lips curling with a smirk and a whisper of _'good girl'_. Her forearms rested on his shoulders, legs spread apart by his own as his kisses assaulted her neck, teeth grazing the already bruised spots. She froze with fear for a moment as fingers finally pressed against her clit, wondering if she locked the door — she thrived on the mock humiliation that was part of their escapades but she'd rather no one walked in on them; her every bit exposed from bruised neck to dripping cunt. 

There was a remark about that but her mind pushed away anything that wasn't the tingle and buzz of fingers working against her sensitive skin. The heat that's been swelling and ebbing and rising in a continuous cycle since his fingers wrapped around her thigh back in her quarters now grew again — muscles and nerves pulling taut with arousal. He'd pull an orgasm out of her before he'd start fucking her — maybe two if there's no urgency behind his needs. She whimpered against his neck, swallowing the words to plead for release. 

"You want to come already." There's a little cooing sounds as he took her chin again, brushing lips against hers as another miserable whimper flowed past her gritted teeth — unsure if it's a question or observation now. It sounded as the latter but maybe she could risk a reply — blame it on the pleasure that's skirting around her as his fingers finally delved into her cunt. He was a little rough and the angle's different than all those times she's been lying on her back — but it hit something right and the world spun just a little with her. If she wasn't standing naked and aroused out of her mind over Maxson's body, she'd be concerned about the airship falling from the sky at that sensation. "Answer me, Nora." 

"Yes, Arthur. Please." So it was a question after all. The pace at which his fingers pumped in and out of her increased as she was pushed back against the edge of his desk — her trembling hands trying their best to keep her unsteady body perched against the wood. He gave her a sweeping look, eyes clouded over with lust — his wrist still flicking and twisting as his lips closed around her clit. Her hiss deepened into a moan as the scrape of teeth was soothed by the tip of his tongue rubbing circles into her skin — if she'd mind for anything else than the intangible coil that tightened with each slurping sound, each thrust of his fingers, she'd spare a moment to blush in embarrassment. 

She bit her lower lip, trying to keep in any sound that wasn't a moan or gasp or whimper, knowing that if she'd dare to utter a single _'fuck'_ , his name or any kind of warning, he'd stop and wait until her nearing height would fade — only so he could start again. The only sign of her peak were nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders, adding half a dozen or so scratches to his scars — and the impossibly rapid pulsing, the tightness she clamped down on his fingers with. He leaned back in his chair, watching her quiver and whimper as the incessant thrusting of his fingers drawn out her climax — pushing her towards the next quick enough that the bliss hardly had time to register. Instead, she's been a mess of sore muscles and sensitive nerves, skin damp with a combination of saliva and her own wetness — breath shallow and erratic between gasps of overstimulation. 

His pace now was like the simmer on a gas burner, slow and barely there, just enough to keep the flow of pleasure and anticipation present — letting her gather herself enough to return his gaze. It was hungry, leering even with the satisfied smirk — only disappearing when his hand curled into a fist around his cock, a breathy groan filling the room. She swallowed, watching him mesmerized as the lazy strokes along his shaft matched the pace of his fingers still inside her — a third one added now. His hands stopped every now and then, keeping himself from release while dragging her ever closer — his thumb flicking her clit, fingers curling against her walls. 

"Fuck me, Arth-" She didn't remember if she ever saw him leap to his feet faster — though many things eluded her hazy mind at the present. She could taste herself on the fingers that diligently reminded her of the the order of no talking — a needy whimper vibrating past them. The stimulus against her clit was replaced by the head of his cock as he loomed over her — her sounds pathetic attempts at an apology. He pulled back, his fingers leaving a wet patch on her thighs as he pushed her onto the desk — aligning himself with her. "Wait, prot-" 

"You wanted my cock. You only get that." Her protest was cut off by the deep growl that rumbled in his chest and against her neck — and the almost screaming gasp when he thrust into her cunt; slick, warm, inviting. There was no waiting, no gyrating hips to adjust — just another sharp, almost angry thrust that made her hands fly up to his shoulders, gripping onto him instead of the edge of the desk. Bracing against him, she let his rhythm rock their bodies together with each snap of his hips — pushing her ever higher to her peak. 

His lips found hers, sloppy kisses eating up her every sound as the desk slammed into the wall over and over again — each _bang_ timed with Maxson hitting the right spot and she was tumbling in a colorful haze of pleasure and bliss before she knew it. She felt limp and heavy in his arms as his pace quickened then lost rhythm, riding out her climax as his cock twitched and spilled inside her. She was damp and sticky, her limbs trembling with soft aftershocks — her lungs short of oxygen as she panted to fill them again. 

"Nora?" Warm hands cradled her jaws, the touch gentle enough even to hold a newborn, and her eyes flitted up to meet the steely blues — soft and warm, without a trace of any roughness that glinted beside his lust. Her fingers combed through his hair with a smile instead of a reply — tired and not yet trusting her voice. Her palm put a little more pressure on his scalp, bringing his lips down for a gentle kiss, acknowledging his concerns and reassuring him in her own way. 

She was left alone, not more than a minute could pass before Maxson returned from the tiny refresher that was adjacent to his room — a warm and damp cloth in his hand. She was thankful for the gesture, not trusting her legs to keep her upright for the duration of a shower — not even with Maxson's arm around her waist. 

"I had fun, you know. With you and the kid." He held a pause before saying the word 'kid' — the idea of a family really growing on him. She smiled, pulling him in for a kiss as he pulled a leg across his middle — running fingers along her sore muscles as she cuddled up with him for the night. She knew that it would be short, needing to slip back into her own bed before the sun rose — but she could enjoy his warmth and company while it lasted.


	6. Elder

She was nervous and ready to throw up as she approached Maxson — though the latter seemed to be a daily occurrence lately. The first morning when she woke up with the world spinning, she only assumed it was something she ate the night before. But she's been through this once and when it repeated, it was easy to put the pieces together. She hasn't been to Cade, it was pointless — he could only tell her at this point what she already knew. 

"Sentinel, you need anything?" His eyes narrowed slightly but it was gone when she flashed a smile — it felt fake and probably looked so but neither of them had energy to debate that. Maxson was probably pissed at the recon squad that barely cleared from the observation deck. She stalled, crossing the distance over to him at the window — not as if that made the location any more private than it was. 

"Yes. Actually I have a request." She usually just took on missions and assignments without input from Maxson since her promotion to sentinel, though she received a fair share of them from him — but she's never asked a favor of him as soldier from commander. Unless one counted the incident with Danse but there were personal interests at play then. She wrung her fingers together, taking another moment to fight her insides over the measly breakfast. 

"Well?" 

"I want to be taken off of active duty. For a year." The last words were barely a whisper. The last two days she was going through the possible response to such a request — manpower was more scarce than it seemed and she's been playing great part in securing the trade with local farms and settlements. At best, she expected him to be surprised, incredulous as to why — the worst was fury and banishment without question. There was both, his brows furrowed over narrowed eyes, his lips pulled into something she'd call as a pout — though that felt ridiculous when it came to Maxson. 

"I hope there's a solid reason why." He held her in quite a high regard solely based on her accomplishments on the field — she wasn't sure that he dropped the view entirely that she was a social climber, however. Her fingers wrapped around his wrists, pulling it against her body — planting them on her stomach. There was no bump yet, wouldn't be for two more months at least — she was showing late with Shaun, too. 

"I thought you wouldn't want to risk the life of the next Maxson, either." His eyes lifted from their hands, her over his, slowly blinking with lips trying to form words — it was a first, seeing him speechless. There was a soft smile on her lips, finding this so far hidden side of him endearing. But she understood what he felt, both of her pregnancies were a surprise to her as well — it didn't make easier a second time for her either. She was unsure upon realization, afraid how it would affect everything — unsure if she could handle a pregnancy in this world when it wasn't the most pleasant before the bombs either. 

"How long do you know? And when?" She only had rough guesses for when; that night, after the games when he came over for the first time. He's been overeager, she too, and they didn't use protection. Of course there could be other possibilities but that was unlikely and she counted with six or seven weeks as of now. The other question was easier to answer — she only hoped he won't be mad at the delay. 

"Four days. I wasn't sure at first but...Are you even happy?" He didn't say anything about his feelings on the matter, only asked factual questions — other than shocked, she was clueless. She didn't really stop and think if he even wanted this. Though given the pressure on him as the last of the Maxsons, she figured he'd be happy to at least secure an heir — in his moderate way but he'd let her know. 

"Yes, sent- Yes, Nora." One of his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close — less squeezing than his hugs were, already afraid to touch her just a little too strong. His hands found her face, cradling a cheek as his lips moved against hers, drawing a little sigh of contentment — she should've become pregnant sooner if it came with such softness. That wasn't to say she hated the rough passion they shared but this was something sweet — something real. She knew that Maxson couldn't go around smiling and telling everyone how much he loved her, if he really did at all — it was neither his style nor a fitting behavior for a commander of a small army and research team. "But you'll have to be patient with me." 

Her fingers brushed against his cheek before pressing against his scalp — uncaring if anyone saw them kissing. Soon everyone will know that she's carrying the Maxson heir and most people will trip over themselves to be in her good graces. Even when she pulled away for air, she couldn't help the dumb smile that seemed to be a new, permanent feature of her face. 

"I know you stopped wearing the ring when..." When they started to sleep together, yes; when things got more serious between them — but it probably wasn't why he thought. Sure it reminded her of Nate but what else was it good for — just a piece of metal, a tin can had more value. He let go of her face, lifting her left in the impossibly small space between them — his thumb brushing over where her ring used to be. "Will you wear one again for me?" 

"I suppose. Is this your way of proposing?" She didn't know if she wanted to chuckle at its cuteness and clumsiness, cry in happiness or just be shocked — she wasn't sure she wanted to handle all the extra pressure that would come from making things official. But, at the end of the day, she always longed for that; to stop pretending they weren't anything else than Elder and Sentinel to each other — she wasn't fooling anyone with that defensive sarcasm. She rose to meet him in a kiss again, clinging to his shoulders with both arms — whispering her _'yes, I'll marry you'_ against his lips. "But," she leant back, her tone serious, ringing almost as a warning, "I won't tolerate if you make Shaun feel unwanted. He is my son, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone!  
> Please let me know what you think or if there are any more interactions you'd like to see but wasn't included.
> 
> New Chapter is the second one titled "Knight" and what was previously titled so is now chapter three, "Knight-Captain".


	7. High Elder

_"Put these on and meet me at the vertibirds in thirty."_

She might've been a little more allowing with herself than what would be appropriate — though she supposed being married to the Elder came with some benefits. Benefits other than the backrubs Maxson was getting more and more proficient at or the sleepy, morning cuddles before needing to report for duty. Of course, it came with it's fair share of concerns — though that might've done more with her pregnancy than anything else. It was too often that he was stressed out even despite her assurances that everything was going normal — that's why she decided that a break would do good for both of them. 

_"Where are we going, Nora?"_

She didn't reply to Maxson, only admired they way he looked in the clothes she thrust into his hands. She's seen him in jeans before once or twice — it somehow felt special even if it was the most basic garment ever existing. And the old flannels she sometimes borrowed to sleep in were flattering on him but that rugged lumberjack look had nothing on the way the crisp dress shirt hugged his frame — ever since their quiet, little wedding she was desperate to see him in a shirt like that again. She only took his hand as her green dress fluttered around her legs, pulling him into a vertibird — with its pilot previously discussing their destination. 

They were now sitting in the Third Rail, on opposing sides of a small table — an almost empty bottle of cola in her hand and a beer in his. Her fingers brushed his upturned palm, watching him with a soft gaze and a little smile. Maxson was still glaring, not at her but at something, or rather someone, by the bar, out of her sight — probably the mayor who was undoubtedly fixing her backside from where he sat on a stool. 

"Hey Arthur? Dance with me?" The fingers curling under his chin pulled those steely blues back to her, following the tilt of her head as his features smoothed a bit. He leaned into her continued touches, nuzzling her palm and pressing a light kiss against her skin. A wary glance later to the dance floor occupied by wriggling bodies, his hand enveloped hers — peeling it away with a gentle touch. She let Maxson help her up, giggling softly while doing so — her free hand coming to rest on his shoulder. She leant in with a little kiss then spun away from his hold, that tiny groan of frustration not escaping her in the noise of the bar and music. 

They were awkward at first; hands crashing into biceps, rings catching on hair or leaning so close in that their noses touched. Another giggle slipped from her as she planted Maxson's hands against the small of her back — hers wrapping around his neck with fingers caressing his nape. The song was slow, more fitting for rooted swaying than anything else — but it was nice as long she was in his arms, head resting against a shoulder. 

"Thank you for doing this for me." She looked up, dragging a hand along his collar before lifting it to cradle his jawline. When he realized where she was taking him, Maxson wanted to turn back but eventually relented — it's not like there were many alternatives; the Dugout the other option, somehow even worse than here. At least there was live music here and fights were a rarer occurrence — though more deadly, too. She knew that Maxson's disgust was part for that, the other was thanks to the majority of the citizens and the mayor — who didn't really help his case with the leering. 

"It's..." His lips caught hers in a kiss instead of finishing the sentence — it was obvious to her it wasn't _'nothing'_ to him. "But next time, you should just ask me." His voice was a whisper against her lips, the almost-kisses drawing a soft moan from her. It wasn't loud or passionate like those he could pull from her in the bedroom — rather something filled with a strange mix of longing and satisfaction. Her eyes closed briefly as their lips met in longer and deeper kisses, his arms holding her tightly as they swayed to the rhythm. 

"So, there will be next time?" There was a smirk on her lips, quickly softening into a smile as she clung to him tighter as the song came to an and another started up. She didn't think this would be a frequent occurrence, not as the weeks crawled by and her bump grew — but she wouldn't say no to some alone time with Maxson. He whispered a _'maybe'_ into her hair, and though she couldn't see, she was certain his lips curled into a smile, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, another dancing. I feel like sooner or later I'm gonna make all these FO4 couple dance at this rate.


	8. Squire

She nudged Maxson softly, turning back to him and catching his lips in a small kiss before he'd get out of bed — it was his turn to check on the baby. Sarah, named both after her mother and his mentor, slept peacefully most nights and then there were some where sleeping seemed like a luxury. He muttered something she couldn't catch and then his warmth was gone from under the blankets. With sleepy eyes, she watched Maxson — a smile curling onto her lips at the sight. There was a soft clanker as his shoulder bumped the salvaged mobile — the very same that once hung above Shaun's crib. 

_It's been the day after Sarah was born and no one aboard the airship seemed to have met Maxson or Shaun — and Kells tried his best to hide the fact they went on a vertibird ride together. She's been afraid for a moment, paranoid even that it was all to get rid of the synth now that they had a real, human child together — though Maxson seemed to warm up more to Shaun in the past months. They were still far from being father and son, something that would never come to be but they were as close Maxson's distaste for the synth allowed. It was almost nightfall when the two returned, coming to see her at once. Maxson pressed a kiss to her lips and Shaun bounced on his feet, hiding something behind his back._

_"Mom, I got you, well, you and Sarah a gift." It was then when he handed over the mobile, brought back from Sanctuary. He explained how he had the faintest of memories of it and knowing how their house was left alone by the Minutemen, he convinced Maxson to retrieve it — according to him later that night, Shaun was nagging him until he agreed._

She was unsure about it, about her feelings of parts from her past becoming her present — but seeing the little smile on Sarah's face when the rockets spun around was worth it. But it couldn't calm her down now though her cries quieted into whines and whimpers since Maxson started rocking her against his chest. Her smile grew, resting a hand on his knee as she watched the soft moment — there was hardly a trace of his fears anymore. Soldiers, as it seemed, were almost surprisingly gentle parents — always scared of squishing the young one or being too loud and waking them. 

"You're doing great, Arthur." He was lacking still, she too, but he tried and it was endearing. She often found him leaning over the crib in his spare minutes, cooing to her about being _Dad's good little girl_ or taking a nap with Sarah resting on his chest, tiny fingers grasping his. She wasn't much more experienced as a parent than he was, hardly having a few months with Shaun — and even then, Codsworth was helping out a lot. Maxson was capable, she knew it just as much she heard of his successes from before they met, and she had little doubt about him in the role of a father — giving him praise and credit where it was due was the least. "Do you want me to take over, though?" 

"No need. She's almost asleep, it has to be a radstorm scare only." However, Maxson was pushing too hard and he's been more tired than she's ever seen him before. She's been trying to do more behind the scenes, be the one getting up more often for the baby but he was insistent on doing it together — he's been giving his all to fatherhood as she's seen him give his all to the Brotherhood before. It filled her with all the hope she lacked when looking out at the wasteland. 

"Then come here, both of you." She scooted over, leaving enough space for Sarah to lie between them — she slept better in their hold when she was restless due to approaching radstorms. Her fingers brushed against Maxson's cheek, drawing him in for a soft kiss before tucking all three of them in — hoping for the rest of the night to be peaceful. "Sweet dreams, Sarah. Love you, Arthur." 

"You too, Nora. Sleep well, Sarah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a month. Shame on me but here it is.  
> I hope you all enjoyed it and in the future there might be more Maxson things written but I have a big project taking up all my time.  
> Thanks for sticking around and all the love. Bye.


End file.
